by Sherry Lewis
Brandon raised his head and the look in his eyes caught Fred off guard. “I didn’t kill her,” he whispered. “I never left the party. You have to believe me! I didn’t kill my wife.”
Enos produced a small slip of paper from his shirt pocket and read Brandon his rights. The right to remain silent. The right to have an attorney present. Just like on television.
At the end, Enos gave a sharp tug on Brandon’s arm. Brandon stumbled slightly as Enos led him away. Fred became aware of the hushed breathing of the other two occupants of the room and then something else, the soft sound of muffled crying.
He found Madison huddled behind a chair in the hallway. When she saw Fred, she turned to run, but he scooped her into his arms and held her against his chest. Whispering to her as he could have one of his own grandchildren, he calmed her and brushed her hair back from her eyes and then went in search of Kate.
She and Tony were still in the living room. Kate sat on the couch, shell-shocked by the argument with Brandon. Tony had poured himself a drink, which he tossed back as Fred and Madison came into the room.
“She has to stay with you now,” he said to Kate. “You’re all the family she’s got.”
Tony put down his glass and held out his arms for the little girl. “Don’t you think she ought to stay here? This is her home. Don’t you want to stay here with me, Madison?”
Madison buried her face in Fred’s shoulder.
“I think she needs to get away from here,” Fred said. “I know you’re her uncle of sorts, but Kate is her aunt and right now I think Madison needs the nurturing of a mother figure more than anything else.”
Tony backed away and gave a reluctant nod. “You’re right, I guess. I just hate to see her go through any more.”
“We’ll fix up a bed at my place for her. Kate, I think you ought to go find her some clothes and a few toys.”
Kate didn’t move. “I don’t know anything about caring for children. I can’t do it. What about Maggie?”
Her reaction snapped Fred’s temper. The strain of the last couple of weeks had been too much. “Dammit Kate! Stop thinking of yourself and spare a thought for this poor child!” Madison flinched in his arms, so he softened his voice so he wouldn’t frighten her. “Go upstairs and find some of her things.”
Kate sent him a biting look, but climbed the stairs anyway and Tony followed, quietly offering to help.
Suddenly the atmosphere in the house felt uncomfortable, overheated and stuffy. Fred longed to get back outside into the fresh air. He patted Madison on the shoulder and held her against his chest, trying to calm her. Her lip trembled as she fought tears. “Did we scare you?”
She nodded and snuggled closer. He hated to see her so frightened. Children shouldn’t have to see things like she’d seen the last few days. Poor little kid. He hugged her closer to him and wished he could make everything all right.
He could do one thing, though. He could get her out of this house with all its glass and expensive furniture and take her someplace warm and comfortable. A place where things had been made for kids to touch, where the floors were scratched and the carpets worn from years of knees scooting across them. A place where the closets still held blocks and trucks and ragged dolls with faded smiles—the kind of place where every kid deserves to spend time—to grow up.
He could take her home.
twenty
Two hours later, Fred seethed as Doc closed his medical bag and gave Margaret a pat on the shoulder. “He’s doing fine, Margaret. Nothing to worry about. Maybe a little more excitement than I’d like him to have, but he’s all right. No need to change anything he’s doing as long as he feels good.”
Grateful for small favors, Fred buttoned his shirt. But he knew that Doc’s assurances didn’t carry much weight with his daughter. Margaret would believe what she wanted to.
Which she proved the instant she opened her mouth. “I don’t care. I still think you need to cut back, Dad. Do you know how close you came to . . . to . . .” She waved a hand around for a moment and then gave up trying to find the word she wanted. “I can’t believe you let yourself get in the middle of a fight! Thank heavens Enos called me when he did.”
Enos would hear a thing or two about that. Fred would make sure of that. “For Pete’s sake, Margaret, don’t fuss. I’m all right.”
“If you were all right, Doc wouldn’t need to be here, would he?”
“Doc doesn’t need to be here,” Fred pointed out. “He’s only here because you flew off the handle and called him.”
Doc smiled and shrugged into his coat. “Your Dad isn’t that bad off, Maggie. He still needs to watch what he does and eat a little healthier than he likes to, but he isn’t at death’s door.”
Margaret ignored that too. “I’m going to talk with Enos about this. I don’t know what he’s thinking of—letting you get involved in all this murder business. And then to let you start fighting . . .” She crossed to the window and lowered the blinds.
Fred pushed himself off the bed and tucked his shirttail into his pants. “Leave the blinds open.”
“You need to get some rest.”
“I’m not going to rest and I want the blinds open.”
“Dad—”
Fred’s patience finally cracked. He’d had it with people treating him like an invalid and was even more fed up with Margaret treating him like a child. “Doc, would you please tell my daughter once more that I’m not ready to die? I’ve got too much to do to spend the rest of the day lying in bed.”
“He’s no worse than he was last week, Maggie,” Doc said as he grabbed up his bag and headed for the door. “He’s getting moderate exercise every day and that works in his favor. The only thing you need to watch with him is his caffeine intake. Try not to let him have too much. . .”
Their voices faded as they walked into the hallway and a moment later, Fred heard the front door close behind them. Margaret had probably decided to walk Doc to his car so she could convince him to order Fred to bed.
Taking advantage of her absence, Fred slipped into the living room. Kate sat cross-legged on the sofa studying the Yellow Pages. She didn’t even look up when he came into the room.
Fred came up behind her and looked over her shoulder. “What are you doing?”
Her head came up with a jerk and with one hand she smoothed the hair out of her eyes. “I’m making reservations for my flight home. Now that Brandon’s been arrested, there’s no reason for me to stay.”
“You’re leaving?”
“I need to get back to work, Fred. I’ve put this off as long as I can, and now that it’s over I need to go home.”
“What about Shadow Mountain? What about Madison?”
Kate looked perplexed. “Shadow Mountain? What has that got to do with me?”
“What about Joan’s interest in it? Aren’t there loose ends you need to tie up or something?”
“The whole thing is Brandon’s worry now. And Tony’s. They can do whatever they want with it. I’m not involved.”
“And what about Madison?”
Kate looked back at the book and turned a page. “I don’t know what’s going to happen with her yet.”
Fred perched on the edge of his rocking chair and tried to get her to look at him. “What do you mean? You’re taking her with you, aren’t you? She can’t stay here.”
Kate’s eyes flashed, dark and angry. “Why not? Tony says—and I agree—that it would be too difficult on her to move her away from her home at a time like this. He’s perfectly willing to see that she’s taken care of—at least until after Brandon’s trial.”
Fred snorted. “Tony? You’d leave that little girl up there with him? He doesn’t know the first thing about taking care of a child.”
“Neither do I, or had you forgotten? I think she’d be better off staying here. This is her home.”
“She wants to stay with you.”
“She’s a child, Fred. She doesn’t know what she wants. She’ll be b
etter off at home than in a strange place with a bunch of people she doesn’t know.”
“Well I don’t think you should leave yet,” Fred argued. “You should at least stay until everything’s settled.”
“I don’t have an option,” Kate cried. “I have to go back to work. I can’t just stay here indefinitely. I have deadlines, commitments. People are waiting for me to get back to the city.”
“When are you coming back?”
Kate laughed in derision. “Here? I am not coming back to this . . . place. Once I leave here, that’s it.”
“But—” Fred protested.
“I’m granting Tony power of attorney so he can deal with anything that might come up.”
“You’re doing what?” Fred shouted.
He could hear somebody in the kitchen, so he reigned in his temper and repeated more softly, “You’re doing what?”
“It’s not a big deal, Fred. It’s just good business sense. He’s already involved in the development. He knows what needs to be done. Who else would I have do it? Brandon?”
“Of course not, but you shouldn’t sign away your rights like that. It’s a bad idea.”
Margaret came into the room, still wearing an expression of grave concern. “Dad? What are you doing?”
“Nothing—”
“He’s trying to talk me into staying a while longer,” Kate interrupted. “He’s also giving me business advice. He doesn’t think I can make intelligent decisions.”
“I’d say that’s pretty obvious, judging from the ones you’re making right now,” Fred snapped.
“Let Kate make her own decisions, Dad. She’s not a child.”
He gave her an icy look. “Excellent advice, Margaret. You ought to listen to it yourself sometime.”
Kate tossed aside the phone book in frustration. “Who do you want me to leave the power of attorney with? You? Mr. Progress? I’m sure you’d look out for my best interests.”
“I don’t want your damned power of attorney, but I don’t want Tony to have it either. I wouldn’t want you to give it to Enos or Margaret. I want you to keep it and handle things that come up as you need to.”
“Dad—” Margaret warned, and he picked up the sound of little footsteps coming down the hall. Madison, fresh from a nap, scuttled into the room and raced toward Kate, hugging her legs with two chubby arms. Kate clicked her tongue in annoyance and picked up the Yellow Pages again.
Her rejection of the child made Fred sad. He called Madison to him, but she shook her head and held onto Kate even tighter. “Can’t you pick her up for a minute?” he asked.
Kate ignored him and concentrated on her reading. The doorbell rang and Margaret hurried to answer it. She stepped outside onto the porch, and Fred, curious, followed to see what she was trying to keep from him now. He found Margaret and Enos with their heads together beneath the porch light, their voices low whispers.
Margaret looked up when Fred came outside and stopped talking right in the middle of a sentence.
Enos flushed, embarrassed to have been caught in the conspiracy with Margaret. “Is Kate still here?”
“Inside. In the living room.”
Enos moved past Fred and let himself inside. Margaret muttered something about washing Fred’s dishes.
“Leave them,” Fred ordered.
“It’s all right, Dad. I’ll do them quickly before I leave.”
He was tired and emotionally exhausted. He couldn’t take much more of her well-meaning concern. “Go home, Margaret. I’ll do my own dishes.”
“But Dad, I don’t mind.”
“I do mind, Margaret. Go home. I want to do my own dishes.” He turned away quickly, afraid to see the hurt fill her eyes, and followed Enos into the house.
Enos’s glance flickered toward Fred as he came inside, but returned immediately to Kate. “I just came by to tell you that I’ve had to release Brandon from custody.”
Kate shot to her feet, realized Madison was still clinging to her, and grabbed up the little girl to keep her from falling. “You’ve done what?”
“I had no choice. The lab results came back on the tissue we found under Joan’s fingernails. It’s not a match. At best, the evidence against him is inconclusive. He lawyered up, and unless something else comes up, I can’t hold him.”
Fred felt like an old man as he went back to his rocking chair. How could this have happened? Fred had been sure they’d arrested the right man. “You mean Joan had someone else’s skin under her fingernails? Is that what you’re saying?”
Madison looked up at the sound of her mother’s name. “Mommy?”
Fred clamped his mouth shut on his next question. They couldn’t talk about this now. Not in front of the child.
Apparently, Enos came to the same conclusion. He patted Fred’s shoulder and nodded toward the kitchen. “Fred, would you mind . . . ?”
“Yes, I’d mind.”
Enos waited, not speaking, expecting Fred to comply. In the end, Fred had no choice. He couldn’t let the girl hear anything gruesome about her mother, so he scooped Madison into his arms and retreated into the kitchen.
He poured a glass of milk, dug one of Margaret’s home-made chocolate chip cookies out of the jar and placed them both in front of her at the table. Then he crossed the room and put his ear to the door.
Enos’s voice came through only slightly muffled. Fred could hear well enough to catch most of the conversation. Would he always be reduced to eavesdropping on important conversations?
“. . .checking into his allegations that Ramsey embezzled funds from the bank,” Enos’s voice rumbled. “He claims to have proof. He says that Joan knew about it—that she’s the one who told him. If it’s true—”
“I think it is,” Kate interrupted. “Fred and I have both wondered how he got all that money. I’ll bet a bank examiner would find Ramsey’s books very interesting.”
Silence for a moment, then Enos’s voice came again. This time he sounded unhappy. “Maybe you ought to tell me what else the two of you learned while you were not investigating Joan’s death.”
To Fred’s chagrin, Kate didn’t hesitate to fill him in. She told him everything they’d learned, everything they’d seen. She talked about their latest visit to the art gallery, their conversations with Ramsey and their visit to Summer’s house. She even explained Winona’s various connections.
“We actually sat down and made a list,” she said at last. “Suspects, motives, that sort of thing. I’ll get Fred to get you a copy of it.”
“You’ve been busy,” Enos grumbled.
“I had to do something, especially after I found out about the will. Brandon controls everything, of course, but if anything happens to him before Madison is twenty-five, Joan named me as his successor. . . .” Her voice dropped and Fred couldn’t hear what she said next.
He looked over at Madison, pleased to see that she was smacking her lips over the cookie. She gave him a chocolate grin and lifted the glass of milk.
Kate’s voice rose again, loud enough for Fred to hear her last few words. “ . . . pretty sharp for an old man.”
That was the last straw. The whole younger generation seemed to think mental agility disappeared when skin began to wrinkle. And they acted so amazed if a senior citizen showed any signs of intelligence. Even Kate sounded surprised that he was still alert at seventy-two.
But who had been right about the murder in the first place? And who’d been responsible for finding out all that information she’d just rattled off to Enos? An old man, that’s who! He snorted in derision and turned back toward Madison.
The full humiliation of his situation hit him. Banished to the kitchen with a child—and in his own home! Who did they think they were—and why did he let them get away with it? Maybe it was time for this old man to straighten a few things out.
He wiped away the cookie crumbs and put his hand on Madison’s shoulder. “Want to go for a walk with me?”
She nodded happily. “Can Kate c
ome?”
“Not this time, but we’ll be back in a minute. We’ll be back before she even misses us.”
He retrieved their coats from the back porch and zipped Madison tightly into hers. He stuffed mittens on her tiny hands and tied her hood until it puckered around her little face. With utter trust, the kind that frightened him for his own grandchildren, she reached up and took his hand.
He led her down the driveway and wondered how long it would take Kate and Enos to discover they were gone. When they came to look for him, he wouldn’t be sitting there waiting. He’d suffered enough indignity with Margaret treating him like a child. He wasn’t going to let Enos and Kate join in. It was time to do something about it.
And in the meantime, he intended to have a banana split with hot fudge and half a pot of coffee at the Bluebird. And he defied any of those kids to find him and tell him he couldn’t.
twenty one
Sitting in the big corner booth at the Bluebird, beneath the Blue Hawaii poster, Fred started to feel a little better. In the background, Elvis sang “Let Me Help” while Liz brought two glasses of water and a straw for Madison. Fred ordered coffee, but Liz shook her head.
“Can’t,” she said.
Fred sighed. “Don’t you start—”
Liz dragged a chair from a nearby table and sat. She covered his hand with hers and gave him a sorry smile. “I can’t do it, Fred. Doc told me about you getting in that fight up at Cavanaugh’s. He said he’d close me down if I served you coffee any time in the next two weeks.”
“He can’t close you down, for heaven sake.”
“I know that,” she said and looked offended that he would even suggest such a thing. “But he’s worried about you. We all are. And I’m not giving you a drop of coffee for two weeks—until the seventh of November. I’ve marked it on my calendar.” She patted his hand roughly. “Now, don’t you get mad at me. If I didn’t care . . .”